


Home Sweet Home

by CaptainKenway



Category: The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Military, Established Relationship, M/M, Non-famous Adam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 07:06:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6844204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainKenway/pseuds/CaptainKenway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam is a soldier in Afghanistan. Blake copes with his absence back home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Sweet Home

**Author's Note:**

> General disclaimer: all my army info came from the internet so I hope I don't offend anyone.
> 
> Enjoy!

Blake finished another Sudoku impatiently. After all this time, he should be used to waiting next to a seemingly never changing Skype screen. His eyes flickered to the clock.

9:14

The country singer gnawed his lip and reluctantly flipped to a fresh Sudoku puzzle. He already killed time tapping out a few generic responses to his manager and publicist’s emails.  Blake was his most productive waiting for Skype calls. His consistently prompt email responses certainly made their lives easier even if Blake grew steadily more paranoid.

Adam said 8:50. Not that his boyfriend’s tardiness was unexpected. It was difficult enough coordinating biweekly Skype meetings with their busy schedules that someone—usually Blake—twiddled their thumbs for at least fifteen minutes. The time difference certainly didn’t help. Afghanistan was roughly 12 hours ahead of California—11 and a half specifically. So yes, while Blake was used to waiting, his tolerance and patience remained forever low.

9:18

He could never refrain from over dramatizing every slight delay, assuming each minute without contact meant the worst for Adam. Despite every reassurance and light local anecdotes his boyfriend provided, Adam’s bullet-ridden corpse haunted his nightmares. While the majority of Afghans supported foreign military aid in dismantling the Taliban rule, dismantling said rule and wanting permanent foreign military bases like the one Adam probably inhabited were two different things. Blake knew this. Adam knew this. But they pretended.

9:21

Blake systematically stifled the image of a pale Adam with a ripped, bloody uniform that surged forward. Adam was shipped overseas two years ago. Coincidentally, that was the amount of time Blake spent fretting next to a laptop. The country singer assumed that his subconscious would grow used to his boyfriend’s situation in that time span. No luck.

The beeping Skype call snapped Blake out of his thoughts. Finally. He hurriedly hit accept, already beaming as his blurry boyfriend filled the screen. A tan canvas hung behind Adam for the illusion of privacy.

“Adam,” Blake greeted, his grin already threatening to fracture his jaw.

“Hey, Bigfoot,” Adam said. The video slowly focused on Adam. His sharp face relaxed into an easy grin, dark circles ever present under hazel eyes. He only wore his uniform pants, his tan torso bare except for dangling dog tags and a white bandage bound on his left pectoral. Blake’s eyes mapped Adam’s exposed skin. He grimaced at the jagged cut that ran across his boyfriend’s left arm. That wasn’t there last week. Christ, Blake hated that Adam was at risk even at his “quiet” base.

“You got a new tattoo,” Blake noted instead.

“We had a day off yesterday,” Adam said. “I went to one of the locals. We passed by his shop and his work caught my eye.”

“You’re so impulsive.”

“I have to get it out somewhere,” Adam said. “Tattoos seem like the most harmless outlet.”

Blake hummed. “What’s the tattoo? Another military one?”

Adam rubbed his 222 tattoo. Consciously or not, Blake had no idea. “Nah, I remember them well enough. This one is for you.”

“Me?”

“Nothing major,” Adam said. “Just your name in Pashto.”

“Over the heart,” Blake said, beaming. Adam was always such a romantic.

He nodded, squirming.

Blake squinted at the lagging Skype image. “I can’t see your face very well so I’m assuming you’re blushing.”

Adam rolled his eyes. Probably. Blake often had to make educated guesses of Adam’s nonverbal reactions. Their video calls were fuzzy the majority of the time. “You always think I’m blushing.”

“Because you always blush.”

“It’s from secondhand embarrassment,” Adam said, “which happens a lot around you. I understand the confusion.”

“Are you sure it’s not from sheer gratitude that I’m a part of your life?” Blake asked.

Adam scoffed. “So humble.”

“I learn from the best.”

Adam stretched. “So tell me about LA.”

“It’s smog-filled and packed with traffic,” Blake said. “It’s much less tolerable without you here.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Adam said.

“I am never dramatic, only truthful.”

Adam shook his head, but didn’t bother to cover his dopey grin. “Have you been visiting Mom?”

Blake shifted his laptop, eyes never darting away from Adam’s semi-blocky image. “Course. I’m a permanent fixture at Patsy’s card night.”

“Good boy,” Adam said. “Is she...?”

“She’s happy,” Blake said. “Constantly misses you. Not that I can blame her.”

“You should introduce her to Usher,” Adam said. “She’s been an Usher fan for years.”

“Really?” Blake asked. “Huh. She doesn’t seem the type.”

“That’s because you’re used to identifying your fans by whose wearing cowboy hats and plaid,” Adam said.

“It’s an easy marker,” Blake said.

“Introduce her to some of your famous friends,” Adam said. “Make her love you.”

“She’s loved me for years,” Blake said.

“Earn your keep,” Adam continued. “Impress my family. Make me look good.”

“I knew you were only using me for my connections,” Blake said. “Our relationship can only end in lies and deceit.”

“Funny how you say that like I actually knew who you were when we first met,” Adam said.

“To be fair, all but a specific faction of Americans were clueless about my existence until recently,” Blake said.

“Until The Voice,” Adam said, “which is so popular even I hear about it and catch the occasional episode.”

“Until The Voice,” Blake agreed. They were in the middle of filming the second season now. Honestly, Blake only signed onto the first season to fill the gaps between songwriting and studio recording. He never realized how much of that time was previously occupied by Adam until his boyfriend was deployed.

“How is that shindig going?”

“People still find us entertaining.”

“Duh. You’re on it,” Adam said. “You’re passingly funny.”

“That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said,” Blake said.

“On occasion, anyways,” Adam said.

“Adam, stop. You’re getting me all hot and flustered.”

His pixelated grin turned wicked. “I can actually make you hot and flustered.”

The shifting canvas stole both of their attentions. Mickey poked his head through, nodding at Blake. Blake waved back, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach. Soldiers interrupting calls back home never boded well. “I didn’t know you two were Skyping.”

“Hiding behind canvas and blocking the little wind that does come through is a favorite pastime of mine,” Adam agreed solemnly.

“Usually Blake calls make you less crabby,” Mickey mused.

“Not if they’re preemptively ended,” Adam said.

Mickey grimaced apologetically, glancing behind him. “Sutton needs to see you.”

“Now?” Adam’s mouth twisted into a frown. His hazel eyes darted back to the screen—Skype miraculously clear now that the end of the call was nearing. Blake soaked in his boyfriend. “I started this call later than I meant to... Sorry, babe.”

Blake smiled, wishing he could reach through the camera and smooth Adam’s scowl. “Attend to your duties, sergeant. We’ll try for the same time next week?”

Adam grinned, probably assuming that showing his teeth would hide his bitter tinge. “Same time next week. Love you.”

“I love you too.”

 

* * *

 

The audience erupted into cheers as the contestant let out his last note. Blake and Pharrell remained standing as Christina and Gwen’s chairs swung around. The contestant pumped a single fist in the air, grinning dazedly at the two glowing runways.

“That was so good,” Gwen said. “I just didn’t turn my chair around because I only have a couple more slots open on my team so I’m looking for a specific sound. But now I’m regretting not turning. Ugh. Why couldn’t you have auditioned earlier?”

“I _did_ turn around for you,” Blake said, “unlike the rookie over here.”

“As did I,” Pharrell said, deftly ignoring the blonde’s pout. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Jackson Young,” the contestant said.

“Well, Jackson, let me be the first to congratulate you on making it onto The Voice,” Pharrell said. Jackson grinned while Blake threw an exasperated look at Pharrell as he began his pitch. The producer/singer/songwriter/altogether awesome at everything music related didn’t notice. Christina smirked at Blake knowingly though. Blake pursed his lips. Pharrell couldn’t finish his genuine kind spiel and put Jackson under his spell without Blake putting in his two cents first.

“I was the first to secure you a chance to come onto The Voice,” Blake said, “because I have faith in your voice and even before I turned around, I knew we had a connection.”

“Do you now?” Christina asked.

“Sure,” Blake said. “Where are you from, Jackson?”

“Florida.”

“Not Oklahoma,” Gwen noted.

“Too bad,” Christina said.

“States are just unnecessary borders,” Blake said loftily. “What do you do for a living, Jackson? Obviously, you were born to be a star—what with your pitch-perfect and captivating performance of a Sinatra song—but you must do something to pay the bills.”

“I currently manage a construction company, but I came home from Afghanistan last year,” Jackson said. His shorn hair suddenly carried new implications. Blake clapped with the audience and other coaches.

“Thank you for your service,” Pharrell said.

Jackson nodded.

“How ecstatic were you to see your family?” Blake asked.

Jackson’s face brightened. Blake wondered if Jackson realized (or cared) how instantly sappy his expression grew. “I proposed to my girlfriend and we got married a month later.”

A couple audience members whooped. Blake just nodded appreciatively. “Belated congratulations and kudos on the unforgettable setting. I bet that it’s hard to compete with your engagement story.”

“Being overseas really puts things into perspective,” Jackson said.

“I can believe that,” Blake murmured. He cleared his throat, knowing that the audience members—and coaches—interest in the blind audition and Blake specifically grew as soon as Jackson mentioned his military service. Of course, the number of gay country musicians was small and the amount of gay musicians who had a boyfriend serving overseas was smaller still. “I know a thing or two about military men. Your drive alone will carry you far in the music industry. But something I want for you, and I hope you want for you, is stability for your family, especially one as new as yours. I can help you in this competition and after, but I want to prepare and help you through the usual plights that make families struggle. I don’t want you to lose something so valuable when you’re pursuing your dreams.”

People clapped, but Blake ignored them in favor of watching Jackson, whose smile turned thoughtful the longer he spoke.

“I have a feeling I know the answer to this, but who do you pick as your coach?” Pharrell asked.

“It means the world that you both turned for me,” Jackson said. “I love what you said about my musical freedom and pursuing my passions, Pharrell, but I feel like Blake better understands what my priorities are. Because of that, I pick Blake.”

The country singer met Jackson halfway down the runway, shaking his hand. “Ditto on all the musical things Pharrell mentioned, by the way.”

Jackson snorted. “I thought so.”

“We’ll make a star out of you yet,” Blake said. “Now go celebrate with your wife.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Jackson said.

His newest team member left with a beam. Heather, The Voice director, called for a break soon after. Blake escaped backstage to huddle next to the food cart as none of the coaches were really prone to staying out by the red chairs longer than required.

He grabbed a sandwich and tried not to jump when he turned to find a diva standing directly behind him. Out of all the coaches, Christina was the one who took Blake the longest to warm up to. Her initial aloof appearance and infuriating diva behavior, which, looking back, Blake might’ve been a bit harsh on judging, kept the country singer from ever going past small talk with Christina as he was, in turn, either intimidated or appalled by her. It wasn’t until Adam scolded him on being judgmental that he made an effort in acting friendly towards her.

Coming into season two and the coach Blake bonded with the quickest, Usher, was absent. Pharrell, who remained pleasant towards everyone, was distracted by his old friend and new coach, Gwen, who was equally lovely. Pharrell and Gwen often formed a natural duo that accidentally excluded Christina and Blake, leaving the singers to their own devices. So while he and Christina finally got along—enough to actually comfortably tease each other on camera—they weren’t really to the place where they actively pursued personal conversations.

“You miss him, don’t you?”

His instinctive sarcastic response melted in the face of Christina’s sympathetic expression. An accidently sincere answer escaped him instead. “Every day.”

“When is he supposed to come back?”

“5 months and two weeks,” Blake responded instantly, flushing as Christina appeared immediately endeared by his exact answer.

“What’s he like?”

“He’s...my best friend,” Blake said, struggling to find words. “He’s the person I want to talk to at the end of the day, I want to fall asleep staring at, that I want by my side no matter what.” He cleared his throat. “He’s one of the best people I know. I don’t deserve him, but he still sticks with me. I want to be with Adam forever... and he’s gorgeous too, which always helps.”

“You’ll have to introduce us sometime,” Christina said, not at all distracted by his ending flippancy. “I would love to meet the man who has you so effortlessly enamored.”

Blake flushed.

“I forgot that you had a boyfriend in the military,” Gwen said. She and Pharrell came to a stop by the country singer and diva. Blake straightened, hoping that any lingering sappiness left his expression while Christina continued looking two seconds away from cooing. “I don’t know how since you coming out as gay rocked the news outlets for a while.”

“Yeah, country artists and fans not really caring about my preference in partners made them lose interest quick enough,” Blake said.

“What’s your boyfriend’s name?” Gwen asked.

“Adam,” Blake said. “We met five years ago when he wound up lost in Tishomingo and needed a ride to LA. We started dating a few months later.”

“Did he want to act or sing or something?” Christina asked. “Why was he headed towards LA?”

“I like his singing, but he just ignores me when I say anything about it,” Blake said. “But he was heading towards LA to visit his family, not to pursue a specific job.”

Christina hummed.

“Will we ever get to meet him?” Pharrell asked.

“I’ll bring him by the set as soon as he gets back, how about that?” Blake said.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Christina said. “Hopefully he’ll agree sooner rather than later.”

“Hey, I’ll never say no to Adam coming back sooner rather than later,” Blake said.

 

* * *

 

Blake released a breath when he finally joined the other coaches on the side of the stage, all waiting for Carson to announce them. It was always more hectic before a live episode, especially when two of his team members collectively had the worst case of stage fright Blake ever witnessed.

“Last to arrive again?” Christina tsked. “If anyone is consistently late, it should be me.”

“I like shaking things up,” Blake said. “Fighting stereotypes and such, hence my decision to become a country singer as soon as I realized I was gay.”

“Were you late because you were talking to your boyfriend?” Blake couldn’t tell if the diva was teasing to be annoying or if she was genuinely curious. Probably both.

“Calming my team before the Lives,” Blake corrected. “Or at least trying to.”

“I’m sticking with you talking to your boyfriend instead,” Christina said.

“Me too,” Gwen said. “It’s cuter.”

Blake sighed, catching Pharrell’s eyes. “Women.”

“It would be romantic if you were always late because you missed Adam so much,” Pharrell said.

“Why are y’all so invested in my relationship?”

Pharrell shrugged. “We’re supportive.”

“Plus your relationship makes for a better story,” Christina said.

“Than what?” Blake asked.

Christina shrugged. “Any of our run of the mill relationships.”

“I doubt any relationship involving y’all is run of the mill,” Blake said.

“But yours could be a Nicolas Sparks book,” Gwen said.

Blake just looked pained.

“Guys, we’re live in two minutes,” Paul, the PA, said, ducking out just as quickly as he popped in. It’s hard to believe that Paul was a shy newbie last year.

“Isn’t that Dear John?” Pharrell asked.

“Stop comparing me and Adam to a bad romance book,” Blake said.

“And movie,” Pharrell said.

“I think they’re sweet,” Gwen said, sounding mildly offended.

“They are,” Christina said. “Blake is just small-minded.”

Blake had never been more grateful for his phone to ring. Gwen and Pharrell were great but they all too often found pleasure in aiding Christina’s teasing. “I have to take this,” Blake said. “Important country music business. You know how it is.”

“He can’t run away when the show starts,” Christina said. Ever since Jackson’s blind audition, the onscreen mentions of Adam (though they usually just referred to him as Blake’s boyfriend or, on one memorable occasion, his boytoy) increased to at least two snarky comments per episode.

Blake turned his back to them, not actually leaving their waiting area as Heather was daunting if anything even threatened to delay her very precise schedule. He glanced at the caller ID for the first time.

Patsy.

Blake blinked, dread coiling in his stomach. He hurriedly swiped the green answer button. “Hello?”

A deep breath wavered across the line. Blake bit his lip. He tried again. “Hello?”

 _“Blake,”_ Patsy said finally. _“Please tell me you aren’t busy.”_

“Patsy, what’s wrong?” Blake’s voice was already strained. He distantly realized that Pharrell, Gwen, and Christina fell silent behind him.

_“It’s Adam.”_

Blake knew this. He knew the second he saw Adam’s mom of his caller ID that something happened to Adam, but that didn’t stop his heart from faltering at Patsy’s words.

_“H-his squad was attacked during a routine transfer. They were ambushed.”_

Ice filled his veins. “No...”

 _“Adam isn’t dead,”_ Patsy said hurriedly, _“but they don’t know how critical his condition is. I-I know that he was shot at least twice, but General Sutton assured me that no crucial arteries were hit.”_

“As opposed to the noncrucial arteries,” Blake said.

_“Blake...”_

Blake pinched the bridge of his nose. If he squeezed hard enough then maybe the stinging behind his eyes would stop. “When did this happen?”

_“Yesterday.”_

Yesterday. Blake was on Jimmy Fallon promoting The Voice after spending the day on set essentially hanging out with Kelly Clarkson. He and Kelly laughed while Adam went through God knows what.

_“I’ll call you as soon as I know anything else, Blake. I promise. You were the first I called after I found out.”_

Blake swallowed, but the lump in his throat refused to disappear. “Thanks.”

_“I’m sorry to dump all—Shit. It’s Tuesday. You’re about to go on live TV. God, Blake I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think to check—”_

“I’m glad you told me,” Blake interrupted. He would never forgive himself if he sat obliviously in his red chair cracking asinine jokes when Adam was— “Just...take care of yourself, Patsy.”

 _“...Bye, Blake_.”

“Goodbye.” Blake bowed his head down, squeezing his iPhone tightly in his hands. Even the usual chaos of The Voice couldn’t cover up the deafening silence from behind him. Blake didn’t want to turn around. He couldn’t face the other coaches’ pitying expressions. Not now. Not when he felt seconds from shattering.

“Guys, we’re live in thirty seconds—”

“Tell Carson to extend his intro,” Christina said. “Delay calling out the coaches for at least a minute.”

Paul blinked at her brisk tone. “Um...”

“No, it’s fine,” Blake said, finally facing the others. Paul’s eyes bulged at Blake’s expression. The country singer struggled to make his face neutral. “We’re ready.”

“Blake,” Christina said.

“I’m fine,” Blake reiterated tersely. “Tell Heather we’re ready.”

Paul lingered, gripping his walkie-talkie uncertainly.

“Now, Paul,” Blake snapped.

Paul fled, walkie-talkie flying towards his mouth. He suspected Paul was instead warning Heather that Blake wasn’t his usual ready-for-TV self.

“Blake, what happened?” Christina asked.

He shook his head.

“We’ll help you get through tonight as painlessly as possible,” Pharrell said. “Just tell us what you want us to do.”

“You know Heather will work with us. Everyone will work with us,” Christina said. Gwen nodded after each person spoke, eyes wide.

Blake’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He slid his phone in his pocket, keeping his gaze downcast. He didn’t think he could relay the message even if he wanted to. The news was too fresh and every time he even thought of prying his mouth open, his throat closed up.

“Is it Adam?” Christina asked gently, sounding exactly like she had when she consoled her son, Max.

Blake flinched, shying away from her uncharacteristically soft tone, away from Gwen’s impossibly large eyes, away from Pharrell’s torn expression.  He focused instead on Carson, who began his Voice intro with his usual vigor thirty feet away. If the host took longer explaining a few aspects of the show than usual, Blake wasn’t going to complain.

“Blake,” Christina pleaded after silence from the country singer, “we’re here for you. We’ll do what we can.”

Blake ignored her as Carson announced his name. His forced, pasted grin never felt like such a blatant lie. He waved, hoping that the distance hid his anguish to the cheering crowd and that the camera was filming a wide shot as he walked across the stage. Carson announced Pharrell quickly, his concerned gaze searing into the country singer. Blake tried to focus on the present, tried not to make it apparent how he already drifted through The Voice proceedings on autopilot. But his half-hearted attempts at normalcy couldn’t stifle the deep hole in his stomach or the fear that twisted in his heart. Blake escaped to his chair and could only hope that his face didn’t betray the crushing weight of his despair.

 

* * *

 

Everyone and their mother knew that Blake’s boyfriend was injured overseas. He didn’t know if there was a leak in The Voice staff—Blake would like to think it wasn’t someone he knew personally but who knew—or just observant Voice viewers. But either way, the tabloids and social media sites were going crazy and Blake had a Today show interview to attend tomorrow and he was not prepared for the inevitable questions. And he refused to hide behind the vicious glare Christina was no doubt prepared to unleash.

He was generally a low key celebrity. When Blake publically came out, the paparazzi hounded Blake waiting for a scandal. But he was a boringly devoted man whose partner was thousands of miles away. It took about two weeks for the paps to grow bored.

Now the paparazzi and reporters followed Blake everywhere. Asking for the latest medical updates, when he’s coming home, if Adam bit the dust, or if Blake cut ties and moved onto someone else.

All of it reminded him of why he hated Hollywood.

Blake pulled into a familiar drive, a drive he only entered when he was sure he was paparazzi free. He sat in his truck, taking deep breaths. He had been to Patsy’s many times before. Today shouldn’t be any different.

Except today was the day Jesse, a member of Adam’s squad and longtime friend, promised to call with an update. When, Patsy didn’t have any idea, but Jesse would call as soon as he had something definite. And something definite was exactly what he and Patsy needed.

Patsy greeted him at the door. She ushered him inside with a jerky wave. “I’m not sure when Jesse will call, but I figured we could play yuker in the meantime.”

Blake walked inside the familiar house, shrugging his coat onto a nearby chair. “Practice yuker? But my yuker skills are already fantastic.”

Patsy smiled weakly, tucking graying hair behind her ears. “Everyone has room for improvement. You just have more than others.”

They settled in her den, cards shuffled in deft fingers while Patsy’s phone lay nearby, charging and probably on the loudest volume possible.

“I don’t know what that says about you since you’re the one who taught me how to play yuker,” Blake said.

“It means you’re a better coach than student,” Patsy said. She paused as she dealt out the cards. “Nobody followed you here, did they?”

Blake shook his head. “I always make sure I’m alone before I drive here, especially now. I don’t want anyone bothering you.”

“Adam probably will never believe that he’s a minor celebrity now,” Patsy said, giving a wiry smile.

“It’ll definitely make my ‘you’re only using me for my fame and power’ argument more plausible,” Blake said. “He always laughed at me when I mentioned it earlier.”

“He’ll get a kick out of it whenever he finally comes home and sees it,” Patsy said. She began blinking rapidly. “He will come home, won’t he?”

Blake nearly faltered at the pure grief that tore across her face. But she needed comfort, not a mirror of her fears and sorrows. He grasped her hand. “He’s coming home. Jesse wouldn’t hide his condition from us if it was critical. Adam will pull through. He’s too stubborn to do anything he doesn’t want to. That includes dying.”

“You’re right,” Patsy said. “Of course, you’re right. I just always worry about my babies. It doesn’t matter how old they get...”

“Hey,” Blake said gently. “He’s okay. He survived the worst of it.”

“He did,” Patsy agreed. She let out a breath. “Did I ever tell you about Adam’s fourth grade science teacher?”

“No, but do—”

 The ringing phone call instantly cut off their conversation. Even in the face of Adam blackmail, Blake couldn’t bring himself to care about the interruption. They needed news. Blake waited, breath suddenly vanishing as Patsy answered the phone and put the call on speaker.

“Jesse?” Patsy said.

 _“Afraid not,”_ a very familiar voice answered _._

Relief engulfed him. Blake glanced up, matching Patsy’s beam. It was Adam. The voice was rough and tired but definitely Adam.

“Adam,” Patsy said, “you’re alright.”

_“Sure, Mom. I couldn’t let anything as pesky as a few bullets keep me down.”_

Blake flinched at Adam’s nonchalance.

Patsy just took a deep breath. “How are you, sweetie?”

_“I’ve been better.”_

“I figured,” Patsy said. “What’s wrong with you?”

_“I’d like to think that as my mother, you wouldn’t judge me on my flaws.”_

“Adam, I love you with all my heart and being,” Patsy said, “but now is not the time to be sarcastic.”

 _“...Sorry, Mom.”_ Adam sounded impossibly wearier now that he dropped the bravado. Blake wished he could reach through the phone and drag Adam home. Someplace safe, warm, and specifically within arm’s reach.

“Now what happened?”

Adam sighed. _“I’m assuming Sutton gave you the vague overview?”_

“He told me that your squad was ambushed,” Patsy said.

_“It sounds worse than it is. Barely any Taliban were firing at us. We would’ve been fine if—um...”_

“If what?”

Adam continued with clear reluctance. He always had the habit of speaking before thinking, but Blake couldn’t be annoyed if it resulted in his boyfriend revealing information. _“If they didn’t have some M-109s, but overall it was a minor skirmish. Only three fatal casualties and—”_

“It landed you in the hospital for five days,” Patsy said, steel hardening her voice. “I don’t care how ‘minor’ the fight was. Adam, what happened to you?”

 _“I got shot a few times.”_ Adam spoke quickly, unsuccessfully attempting to downplay his condition. _“A couple in the leg and once in the arm. The shot to the arm was more glancing than anything. My leg is more fucked up, but it’s still functional. It’ll be better after some physical therapy. Anyway, infection is the biggest thing that could go wrong at this point. Not that it will because they have me on_ all _the antibiotics.”_

Patsy’s grip on Blake’s hand turned crushing in the middle of Adam’s rushed summary. She swallowed. “When are you coming home?”

There was a pause. _“I’m not sure yet. I might be over here for a bit longer.”_

Patsy’s face fell but she forced a smile, despite the fact that Adam couldn’t see her. Her tone was deliberately light. “Well find out as soon as possible. You caused us a lot of heartache, young man.”

_“Us?”_

“Me too, you nimrod,” Blake said.

 _“Blake.”_ There was no disguising his sheer joy—shining bright even past his obvious exhaustion. _“I didn’t know you were there.”_

Patsy smiled softly, pushing away from the table. “I think I’ll go check on the casserole.”

_“Mom, we’re not going to do anything.”_

“I can’t hear you,” Patsy called, already out of the den. She lingered long enough to wink at Blake. “I’m checking the casserole.”

_“There is no casserole, is there?”_

“Of course there’s no casserole,” Blake said. “I’ve never seen your mom prepare anything more difficult than spaghetti.”

_“Hey my mom can make a casserole if she wants to.”_

“I know she can,” Blake said. “Just to prove a point if nothing else. I’ll be honest, I didn’t realize how potently genetic stubbornness is until I met you and your mom.”

_“We’re determined and persistent, not stubborn.”_

“I’m not sure if that’s much better.”

_“Of course, it’s better. I will fight you on this.”_

“I’ll egg you on more then,” Blake said. “Whatever gets you home faster.”

_“Generally getting shot does that.”_

 “Not the method I would’ve recommended,” Blake said. “Please, don’t scare me like that again, darlin’.”

_“I’ll try, even though I usually avoid getting shot on principle. It’s not the most fun activity. I know that’s hard to believe.”_

“Try harder in the future. I don’t want to go through this again,” Blake said, which came out a tad hasher than he intended. Blake softened his voice. “I can’t go through this again and I know Patsy can’t.”

_“Way to lay on the guilt trip.”_

“If it keeps you from getting injured, I can’t bring myself to care too much,” Blake said lightly.

Adam released a deep sigh. _“Can’t say I fault your reasoning. Just wish I could combat it better.”_

“Get back home and I know many effective methods you can use.”

_“You know I’m coming back soon.”_

“That doesn’t stop me from missing you,” Blake said. “It only got worse when I heard you were injured.”

_“Hey, I miss you too.  I’m coming home as soon as possible and that’s a promise.”_

“Yeah?”

_“Yeah.”_

 

* * *

 

A cheer roared through the room as Blake finished his song. Military uniforms and army t-shirts filled the arena. Blake didn’t normally hold a concert so close to The Voice season finale—he worried too much about his remaining team members to do that—but when his manager, Hank, asked if he wanted to play a charity concert for some soldiers and their families, Blake couldn’t refuse, especially when said concert was conveniently in LA.

Blake had been a big military supporter long before he had a boyfriend in the army so he knew that soldiers more than deserved the little appreciation he could offer. Blake just wished that every flag and pennant he spied didn’t lead his thoughts singularly and bitterly towards his still absent boyfriend, who wasn’t returning Stateside until August. Blake didn’t want to wait those long three months. He wanted Adam now.

Usually injured soldiers returned home as soon as it was safe, but since Adam’s injuries were minor—his words, not Blake’s—Adam volunteered to recover in Afghanistan and finish his service there. Blake found himself caring less and less about Adam’s duties as time wore on, which probably wasn’t the most supportive. But Adam got shot. He should be home.

Blake shook his head as a splitting whistle pierced the crowd, the still hollering crowd of soldiers who knew all too well the sacrifices necessary for their line of duty and the families who knew all too well what it was like to miss and worry everyday their spouse or parent was overseas. A pang went through Blake. They didn’t deserve his melancholy or irrational jealousy. They’ve gone through enough.

“Hey, hey enough of that,” Blake said. The crowd followed his instructions surprisingly quickly albeit perplexedly. “I don’t deserve your applause. Y’all are the real heroes.”

Clapping started up again with renewed vigor but thankfully Blake wasn’t the aim of it.

“After all that you’ve sacrificed, y’all deserve so much more than a concert, but I hope tonight will at least remind y’all how lucky you are and how grateful we are for your service,” Blake said. “Now, my next song is dedicated to all the families in tonight’s crowd and every spouse or mother or father who stayed up late worrying about a loved one overseas. It’s God Gave Me You.”

“Wait,” Hank said, voice echoing out of the speakers as his manager walked on stage. Blake frowned while the audience murmured. The only other time Hank interrupted a concert was when he told Blake who the contest winner was and that was done quietly and offstage. Hank hated any sort of public attention. His manager cleared his throat as all attention inevitably focused on him. “Before we finish the concert, Blake’s boyfriend in Afghanistan sent in a video for his birthday. It’s a bit early but I felt like this was an appropriate venue.”

Blake cocked his head as the crowd shouted their approval. “Video?” Blake asked Hank, careful to keep the microphone away from his mouth.

Hank quickly followed suit, already edging towards the safety of backstage. “I think Adam felt bad that he would miss your birthday. Is this okay?”

Blake swallowed, glancing at the surprisingly supportive crowd. Most faces were happy. Of course, he hadn’t dealt with homophobia at his concerts in a while. After all, he’d been open about his sexuality and military partner for years. Homophobic people tended to avoid his venues. He nodded.

His nod was apparently the cue a crew member was waiting for. A projector lit up the curtain behind Blake. The country singer twisted, not able to contain his instant grin as his boyfriend—in military pants and a white tank top because Adam can never be bothered to be in full uniform unless its required—sat in the middle of the screen.

The crowd thankfully quieted besides for the couple wolf-whistles which were instantly hushed.

Video Adam smiled awkwardly. _“This is a bit different than Skyping. The camera doesn’t hold the same appeal you do.”_ Adam shifted. _“I’m sorry I can’t be with you. You know I want to. I just remember after being shot that this might make a good present—not me being shot stop looking annoyed...“_

Blake lightened his slight scowl. Even though Adam’s so far deliberately PG word choice made him realize that Adam probably requested this video be shown publically. Whether Adam knew how public was yet to be determined, but Blake systematically filed it away as support for his gold digger and fame moocher theory.

 _“But me coming home early, just in time for your birthday.”_ Adam took a breath, a small, private smile—Blake’s absolute favorite smile—taking over his face. _“I love you, babe. After this we’re celebrating all the holidays together. You have no choice. Birthdays, Christmas, Hanukah, Thanksgiving, Fourth of July, fuck even Arbor Day. They’ll be great._

A twinkle entered video Adam’s eye. _“Because I’m the best at dramatic gestures.”_

And then Adam got up and left the frame, ignoring the camera completely as it continued filming the now empty chipped wall. The audience’s murmur grew behind him. Blake tensed. Where did Adam go? He couldn’t be—Blake’s heart stuttered as hope threatened to suffocate him. Adam wouldn’t send a video ending with him leaving unless...

God, please let Blake be right.

Please.

Blake turned, trying to find Hank. But then he spotted something better.

His world stopped. Blake beamed.

The audience erupted into cheers as soon as Adam walked across the stage

Blake didn’t remember moving. One second Adam—his Adam—sauntered across the stage, cockiness contradicted by his shy smile and the slight limp in his gait, the next Blake’s face was stuffed firmly against his neck. Adam slung his arms around Blake’s neck, vainly trying to pull him closer. The country singer lifted Adam—still managing to surprise a squeal out of his boyfriend—and swung him in a slow circle.

Blake set Adam on the ground, gently lifting his face with his fingers. His gaze drifted towards Adam’s lips as he slowly lowered his head. Adam instantly tilted forward, one hand cupping Blake’s cheek while the other rested on his chest. Hazel eyes fluttered shut.

He stopped millimeters from Adam’s lips, his plan much more difficult to implement when Adam was so close and so willing. But he steeled himself and restrained from closing the very tempting gap.

“You’re an asshole,” Blake said.

Adam’s surprise lasted only a few seconds. His laugh—Blake forgot how much he craved that musical sound—filled the air. “Oh my God, I’ve missed you so much.”

“Dramatically coming home in front of a huge crowd of strangers much earlier than you said. Liar.”

Adam didn’t seem deterred by his words, still grinning dopily. Of course, that may be due to the fact that Blake punctuated each word with a kiss. “Maybe you should punish me.”

Blake snorted. “Your exhibitionist streak is coming back so quickly.”

“Who said it went anywhere?” Adam asked, a mischievous glint entering his eyes. “You told me that some people thought I was fake and you’re not actually gay. A great way to prove that you like dick would be to suck mine.”

“I’ll run that by Bryan and see if he approves,” Blake said, hands never leaving Adam. They just kept moving, caressing his face, running down his back, tracing his tattoos. Adam was here. _Here_. Well within arm’s reach.

“Your publicist is a stick in the mud,” Adam dismissed. “You should ask me and—spoiler alert—I give you a 100% approval.”

“I value your opinion on everything, darlin’,” Blake said, “but I feel like you’re bias when it comes to me blowing you onstage—”

Adam cut Blake off with a kiss, his lips every bit as familiar and smooth as Blake remembered. It was nothing like the heated reunion Blake often fantasized. It was better. The kiss was impossibly tender and all too addicting.

It took an embarrassingly long time for Blake to finally register the crowd was still yelling.

Blake broke their kiss, resting their foreheads together. “I love you.”

“I love you so much it hurts,” Adam said. “Don’t leave me.”

Blake blinked. “You’re the one that left for a few years.”

“I know,” Adam said, kissing an unresisting Blake once more. “But let’s not do that again.”

“Sounds good to me,” Blake said. His gaze turned sideways, past the badly-hidden glee on Hank’s face and towards the crowd, who was still cheering. He noticed more than a few couples suddenly holding each other. “I have a show to finish.”

Adam sighed. “Always choosing work over me.”

“Pipe down and sit on the stool,” Blake said. “I’m going to serenade you.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Adam said.

Blake picked up the microphone he thankfully slid back on the stand before his and Adam’s reunion. “Now let’s get this show on the road so we can all be with our respective families. Hold a loved one and get comfortable.”

He turned to Adam, snagging his hand and bringing the microphone to his lips. Adam’s hazel eyes never wavered from him. The swelling music quieted the last of the crowd’s wolf-whistles and cheers.

_“I’ve been a walking heartache_

_I’ve made a mess of me_

_The person that I’ve been lately that I don’t wanna_

_But you stay here right beside me_

_And watch as the storm blows through_

_And I need you...”_

 

* * *

 

“What are you doing?” Adam asked about the sixth time Blake clicked his phone in his face. Adam was still partially twisted in Blake’s white sheets, shirtless, and hair that was only neat because he had yet to grow out his buzz cut. All in all a great picture.

Adam flipped him off when Blake chose to take another picture instead of answering his question.

“I know pictures will last longer, but I’m not going anywhere.”

A warm content feeling wrapped around Blake’s heart. He beamed, pecking Adam’s mouth, morning breath be damned. “I know.”

“So the point of the pictures is...?” Adam asked, smirking as he leaned against the headboard, tucking one arm behind his head. Another great picture so Blake acted appropriately.

A hard nudge from Adam’s foot made Blake lower his phone, but not before he obtained the picture and tapped a few times on his phone.

“What are you doing?” For the first time, Adam’s gaze turned suspicious.

“Well,” Blake began hesitantly. It seemed like such a good idea at the time, but he definitely got carried away about three pictures ago, “you said that I could finally publically introduce you as my boyfriend.”

“Don’t make it sound like I was hiding,” Adam said. “I wasn’t here when people cared about your relationship and you didn’t come out sooner because you didn’t want to reveal your gay boyfriend in the military before Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell got repealed.”

“I know,” Blake said, leaning forward and pressing a kiss against his neck, “but now that I can show you off...”

“What did you do?”

“I got excited?”

Adam tried to give a resigned sigh, but a small smile still quirked his lips. “Blake.”

“I may have posted a few pictures of you on Twitter,” Blake said sheepishly.

“You mean the gazillion pictures you took this morning,” Adam said.

“I only posted about half of them.”

Adam stared at him.

“I’m just happy you’re home,” Blake said, deflating a little. “I can take them down...”

“No, they’re fine,” Adam said. Blake stared up at him disbelievingly. “Well, I wish that I approved the pictures before you posted them. Like, babe, I know you love me so you think every picture is Mozart—”

“Mozart is a musician, not a painter.”

“But I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet. Give a guy some warning before you blast his picture all over the internet,” Adam said, “especially when the internet makes it impossible to delete anything.”

“I can do that,” Blake said. “I’ll definitely do that. So, you’re not upset?”

Adam snorted. “Picture taking is not a deal breaker. Besides, Mom told me that the public has been desperate for a picture of me since forever. We have to help the people.”

“I knew you liked the attention,” Blake said

“Like is a strong word,” Adam said. “I tolerate them for you, though. Just like I’ll tolerate you introducing me to all your famous friends.”

“Such a martyr.”

“Aren’t I just?” Adam said before pulling Blake towards him. “Come on. Let’s take a picture together that way you don’t look like a stalker.”

 

* * *

 

“I know we haven’t seen each other for about two years,” Adam said, “but you don’t have to take me everywhere. I can entertain myself.”

“You are protesting this so much,” Blake said, shaking their clasped hands pointedly.

Adam shrugged. “I’m adaptable, what can I say?”

“Truly remarkable,” Blake said, bringing Adam’s hand to his lips for a quick kiss. “Remind me to thank your drill sergeant.”

“Yeah, how about no? Drill sergeants don’t deserve your sincere gratitude.”

“I’ll take your word for it, darlin’,” Blake said. He hesitated outside the conference room door. The Voice meeting wasn’t spontaneous, but Blake definitely forgot about it during the excitement of Adam’s return, which was probably why Carson sent a reminder text this morning. The meeting involved the coaches, some producers, and Heather. The producers and executives always wanted to ensure that everything was in order for the final episode, considering it was the episode with the most special stage effects and guest performances. “Do you want to be here? You don’t have to. I can give you my truck keys and just call you when I’m done.”

Adam raised an eyebrow. “A bit late to have these doubts, don’t you think?”

Blake flushed. “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I want to be with you and plan to whisk you off to lunch as soon as your meeting is over,” Adam said. “Besides, I’ve never seen the inner workings of a TV show before. It should be fun.”

“If you’re sure...” Blake said.

Adam rolled his eyes. “Lead the way, Bigfoot. Introduce me to your coworkers.”

“Positive?” Blake asked. “I don’t want to bore you with work stuff.”

“Blake, if you don’t take me inside to meet famous people I will paint your truck hot pink.”

“Your argument is so compelling,” Blake said.

“It’s irrefutable,” Adam said. “Now go forth and be social.”

Blake snorted, entering the conference room. Nobody looked twice, far too used to one of the four supposed biggest voices in music, but then they caught sight of the tattooed boyfriend Blake tugged behind him.  That’s when the general commotion paused. The following silence lasted maybe two seconds.

“Wow, you’re more attractive in person,” Gwen blurted.

Adam just blinked.

“And he’s spoken for,” Blake said, unnecessarily putting an arm around his shoulder.

Gwen flushed like Blake expected. He smirked, ignoring Adam’s mildly disapproving stare. He was too busy gaping at Gwen to put any real heat behind it, though. “Sorry, I meant that you two make a cute couple. It’s nice to finally meet you, Adam.”

“Uh, yeah definitely,” Adam said. He cleared his throat. “I mean hi, hello. How are you?”

“You didn’t get this flustered when we first met,” Blake said.

“You weren’t a celebrity when we met,” Adam said.

“Um...yeah I was,” Blake said.

Adam waved a dismissive hand. “I meant a real celebrity.”

“I was a real celebrity.”

Adam tore his eyes away from Gwen long enough to raise an eyebrow at him.

“And since Blake has no manners,” Christina said, strutting forward with her usual flawless hair and elegant outfit. She instantly—and effortlessly—captured Adam’s attention.  Blake made note to pry Adam’s mouth off the ground. “It’s nice to put a face to the name. I’m Christina and this is Pharrell.”

“Sup,” Adam said faintly. Pharrell nodded.

“Forgive him,” Blake said. “He tries to act cool when flustered.”

“Blake thinks he’s clever,” Adam said, instinctively falling back on banter like Blake knew he would. He gave Adam a reassuring squeeze. He felt his boyfriend relax slightly. “I just let him pretend. Going along with his delusions is more efficient in the end.”

Christina’s smirk sharpened. “I like your boyfriend, Blake. Why didn’t you tell me he was funny?”

Adam’s dazed face lit up. It’s like he forgot he was gay and supposed to be unsusceptible to her charms.

“I liked keeping him to myself,” Blake said.

“Selfish,” Christina tsked.

“I saw your and Blake’s reunion on YouTube,” Pharrell said. Adam turned, blinking slowly at Pharrell. “It was heartwarming to see such genuine love.”

Adam’s frown quickly overtook his flush. “Wait, that’s already online?” he asked, normalcy finally leaking into his tone. And Adam was addressing someone other than Blake. He was proud, even if it was most likely surprise that made Adam forget he was supposed to be awestruck.

"And viral," Pharrell said.

Adam blinked. "It just happened last night.”

“People go crazy for romance and soldiers coming home,” Pharrell said, “and Blake has been talking you up for quite some time.”

Blake shrugged sheepishly at Adam’s raised eyebrow and far too smug smirk. “What was I supposed to do? Not talk you up?”

“Valid point.”

At that moment, Carson burst through the door, which unfortunately limited any more opportunities for Adam to stick his foot in his star stuck mouth. “Hey, everybody this shouldn’t take—Oh, I see we have a plus one,” Carson said. “Blake must be running out of date ideas.”

“I’m not with him for his creativity,” Adam said.

“I didn’t think it would be a problem,” Blake told Carson, ignoring his boyfriend’s comment. Once they start bickering, it was difficult to stop. Blake figured he would shield his work friends from the worst of it at least for now. “We have lunch plans after this.”

Carson shrugged. “It should be fine. I suppose we can trust the exclusive Adam Levine.”

Adam nudged Blake. “Exclusive. Hear that?”

“Yes, I’m a foot away from you. I hear what you hear,” Blake said.

Adam huffed.

Blake eyed his boyfriend. Apparently his fallback mode after awe was teasing. Who knew? Certainly not Blake since he only recently became a _real celebrity._ “What?”

“No, no it’s fine. Be snippy to your newly returned boyfriend,” Adam said. “I just came from war, you know.”

“You poor thing,” Christina said consolingly.

“See? _Christina Aguilera_ gets it,” Adam said.

“Then maybe you can stay at _Christina_ _Aguilera’s_ house,” Blake said.

“Kicking out the veteran,” Adam said. “Seriously?”

“It’s okay, I have plenty of spare rooms,” Christina said.

“I’m glad someone in this room has a heart,” Adam said.

“She is the nurturing one,” Blake said dryly.

Christina smiled sweetly to Blake before turning her attention to Carson and Heather. “Can I make Adam my guest advisor next season? Strictly to mess with Blake?”

“I’m fine with it,” Carson said. “It might teach Blake a valuable lesson.”

“Heather, make them stop,” Blake said.

The director shrugged, turning to Adam. “You’ll just need to fake musical knowledge.”

“I can constantly critique their pitch,” Adam said.

“Also remind them to loosen up,” Christina advised.

“I can totally do that,” Adam said. He frowned as Blake shook his head. “What?”

“You’re in here for two minutes and you’re already siding against me.”

“You kicked me out of your house,” Adam said.

“Hypothetically and for maybe two seconds,” Blake said.

“Still,” Adam said, “it hurt.”

“It’s difficult to get trust back after you betray it,” Pharrell said.

Adam jabbed a finger towards Pharrell. “See? He gets it too.”

“Not that this isn’t a great episode of Jerry Springer,” Heather said, making Blake clamp his mouth shut, “but how about we finish the meeting and then you and whoever else can finish this couple’s therapy later?”

Adam and Blake looked up at her sheepishly.

“Good,” Heather said. “Also, I’m glad you’re back in the States, Adam. It’s lovely meeting you. You and Blake seem very suited for each other.”

“Thanks, I think,” Adam said.

Heather nodded briskly before launching into the basic show schematics.

Adam nudged Blake as they sat down. “That wasn’t nearly as terrifying as I thought it’d be. It actually went pretty okay.”

“Of course it did,” Blake said. “You’re very charming.”

“Plus you make anyone look better in comparison,” Adam said.

Blake shook his head. “And people think I’m the mean one.”

“It’s because you don’t unleash your puppy dog eyes,” Adam said, “so you seem less sympathetic and pitiful.”

“I save puppy dog eyes for special occasions,” Blake said, “usually involving you.”

“Adam, stop distracting Blake,” Heather said before seamlessly continuing her finale lecture.

“Yeah stop being a distraction,” Blake said. “I always knew you’d be a bad influence.”

“Just in case Heather is as scary as you say and murders us for talking,” Adam said, “just know that I love you and you can have all my stuff.”

“You’ll be safe,” Blake said. “She has a soft spot for rom coms and that’s what you turned our lives into.”

“Oh good,” Adam said. He turned to Blake solemnly. “In that case, I’ll miss you. I’ll take very good care of all your things and probably auction a good chunk of it on eBay.”

“Who says you’re getting anything?” Blake asked. “I do know more people than just you.”

“Um, no, I’m your entire social circle,” Adam said. “Did you not get that memo?”

“Adam, Blake, I’m serious,” Heather said. “Don’t make me separate you.”

Adam and Blake glanced at each other before turning wide gazes on Heather. The ginger blinked.

“Sorry, Heather,” Blake said. “It’s just been so long since I’ve seen Adam.”

“Years,” Adam said, nodding emphatically.

“I have issues keeping my hands off him.”

“He practically molested me in the parking lot.”

“I can’t stand being away from him.”

“It’s like our love is rekindled.”

“It’s so hard sometimes to restrain—”

“Alright,” Heather interrupted. “Just keep it at a dull roar, okay gents? You’re not nearly as quiet as you think.”

“Thanks, Heather,” Blake said.

“You’re the best,” Adam added.

Christina snorted. “Wow, you guys really are perfect for one another.”

Blake beamed, running his thumb over Adam’s knuckles. “What can I say? He gets me.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, this was a fic I struggled to end, which you could probably tell from the pure pointless banter that took up most of the last section (cough and most of my stories cough)
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it! I was going to post this story on Memorial’s Day (May 30 for those who aren’t in the States/just didn’t know when it is), but I’ve been absent from the fandom lately so I thought I’d try and make up for it. 
> 
> Also I randomly made Adam be raised by a single mom in this. It just kinda happened.


End file.
